


The Game

by testosterone_tea



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Choose Your Own Adventure, Choose Your Own Ending, M/M, Otome Game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:15:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24210460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/testosterone_tea/pseuds/testosterone_tea
Summary: Sherlock is in love with John. We all know this. Choose your own adventure-type story.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 132
Kudos: 80





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all, I've recently ended my job and had no new job because of the pandemic. I'm just doing a fun Choose Your Own Adventure story. I will try and update every week. Because I literally have nothing better to do, please participate Johnlock friends! Just a note, I will be trying to finish my other Johnlock WIPs this summer as well.

I'm in love with an idiot.

It's all that I can think, and yet all I can do is stare and take in his visage, as if I'm naught but a spectator and he a spectacular work of art. 

You wouldn't think the man a work of art, unless you were me, and still I am jealous of every woman that crosses his path, because who could not understand, who could not see what a wonder he is?

I am, of course, talking about John Watson.

And then I cannot help but think that no matter what happened later, no matter the terrible things that happened later, what a folly it was to fall for a married man. And also, I cannot help but think that it's not fair, because I loved him long before he was married.

He married. He loved and lost. And then he fell into a quagmire without letting me know how I could help. And still, I wondered if it were a conflict of interest, because I loved him, and I wanted him to be happy.

“Sherlock,” he one day said to me. “Have you ever been in love?”

“Yes,” I answered honestly, unthinkingly.

“You... you have been,” he said in surprise.

“Yes,” I answered. “Think nothing of it. It's long since revealed itself to be something that will never be mine.”

“Oh,” he said. “I'm sorry.”

Ever the careful friend, my John.

And oh, I loved him, even then. It was horrible.

Nothing would have ever changed. Not ever, and although I would not have been happy with that, I would have accepted it. 

And then, it happened. A case.

A) Bed-sharing  
B) Pretend couple  
C) Trapped somewhere  
D) Life or death love confession


	2. The Case

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A case comes Sherlock's way which necessitates him to pretend to be a couple with John. What will happen next?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like most of you wanted a Pretend Couple trope fanfic! I'll do my best to deliver.

“We need someone to go undercover,” Lestrade said.

“Boring,” I said, not looking up from my experiment.

“Sherlock,” John said, looking over the newspaper in his hands. “Just hear the man out, will you?”

I sighed, but raised my eyes from my experiment, lifting the goggles from over my eyes so I could clearly see Lestrade's frustrated face.

“Fine, what's the case?” I asked, crinkling my nose.

“It's a murder, your favourite thing,” Lestrade said, clearly trying to entice me. “Perhaps even... a serial killer.”

“What makes this one special?” I asked. “Can't you get one of your own officers to do it?”

“I would...” Lestrade said. “But I need two people who work well together to do it.”

“Surely you have officers that work well together,” piped in John.

I raised my eyebrows and gestured my head in John's direction. “What he said.”

“Okay, fine,” Lestrade said with a put-upon sigh. “We need two people to go to a gay couple's retreat.”

“A gay couple's retreat?” I said, trying to show skepticism. “Couldn't your officers go?”

“There's too much involved and too much at stake in this case,” said Lestrade, rubbing his head in exasperation. “I didn't want to have to bring it up, but a government official's daughter is involved and it needs to be solved sooner rather than later.”

“How is she involved?” I asked.

“We don't know yet,” said Lestrade. “We wanted to get you to investigate because we don't want the police to be officially involved yet.”

“You realize that John and I are very well-known to be involved with the police?” I asked with a snort. “It won't work.”

I knew that I was trying to avoid the situation out of embarrassment. John could not find out how I felt, and this was a dangerous too-close-to-the-truth game.

“At least you're not literally police,” said Lestrade. “I could sent in two of my best officers, but between the investigation and pretending to be a gay couple and not giving the game away, it might be too dangerous. I need to send you.”

“Lestrade,” I began to say.

“Gregory is correct,” a voice said from the doorway.

I made an annoyed sound in the back of my throat. “Mycroft.”

“I considered putting some of my agents on this case as well,” Mycroft continued. “But it still stands that you are the best at fieldwork. Not to mention your relationship with Dr. Watson has always been suspect in the media.”

I opened my mouth to protest, because surely this was making John uncomfortable, when John himself spoke up.

“It's all right, Sherlock,” he said. “I don't mind taking on this case if you're up for it.”

I froze for just a second, just long enough for Mycroft's eye to twitch. He knew what I was thinking, and I hated him for it. I glared at him.

“What does this case entail?” I finally asked.

“Excellent,” Lestrade said, shoulders slumping in relief. “The retreat is in Cornwall at a private resort near Newquay. Only the famous and rich can probably get in.”

“Another reason that you two will blend in,” said Mycroft. “Given that you're always in the news.”

I sighed and accepted my fate. “Very well. Give me a dossier on the case and we'll leave immediately.”

But I knew they were up to something. As rarely as it was that Lestrade and Mycroft worked together, they tended to make a good team. And Mycroft's entrance was too convenient. Not to mention, their reasoning was flimsy.

“Will you need a car?” asked Lestrade. “I can have Donovan drive you down.”

“Or Anthea,” input Mycroft.

I looked at John.

“What do you think?”

A) Take Mycroft's car  
B) Take Lestrade's car  
C) Take your own car  
D) Take the train


	3. The Train

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John decides that you should take the train to Newquay. What will happen next?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all, sorry for the delay in getting this next chapter up! I was really not in a good headspace the past week because of the BLM protests. I'm feeling a little better now that I've taken some actions to help. But here's the next chapter! It was actually a tie, and I had to roll a dice to decide what happened. I hope you're still having fun reading this.

John put his newspaper down.

“I think maybe a nice train ride will do us some good,” he said.

“Excellent,” Mycroft said before I could say a word. “I’ll get Anthea to arrange it.”

I didn’t care one way or the other, so I simply shrugged and went to pack a suitcase.

It didn’t take long for John and I to be ready, and a taxi dropped us off at the station suitcases in hand. I had the case dossier with me ready to be read on the train. It wouldn’t take long to figure out, I was certain.

The real problem was that I had to pretend to be... John’s... I didn’t even want to think the word in my own head. What word would I even use to describe our relationship? Honestly, ‘boyfriend’ just sounded so strange in my head that I visibly cringed at the thought. Partner? That would work better and was closer to the truth.

We boarded the train without any real hassle and settled in. I immediately opened to dossier, determined to finish this up without having to put John through too much play-acting.

Just as I was thinking that, a weight settled on my shoulder. I glanced over in surprised shock to find that John was leaning against my shoulder, still seemingly engaged with the newspaper.

“John?” I asked hesitantly.

“We’re a couple for this case,” John said quietly. “We can’t just go into this cold, we’ve got to practice being comfortable with this sort of thing.”

I understood the logic behind this gesture, but it was still making my head spin a little to have John close enough that I could smell the shampoo he used.

“Doesn’t it make you uncomfortable?” I asked softly.

“No,” John answered easily, and then went back to reading the newspaper.

I internally shrugged and opened the case dossier. It was difficult to concentrate with John’s head resting on my shoulder – my heart was doing strange things in my chest – but I somehow managed to focus.

Right.

There was a suspect at staying at the resort we were going to whom the police suspected of being a serial killer for several reasons. There was a whole separate sub-folder with various evidence pointing towards this man as the killer. However, there was no solid evidence tying him to the murders yet, only suspicion.

He was a well-known news anchor and was attending the couples retreat as a guest with his husband.

It seemed simple enough. I just had to do some snooping around while also pretending to be John’s... ugh... boyfriend and it would be an easy open and shut case.

A gentle snore from my right indicated that John had fallen asleep on my shoulder. I sighed. It seemed to easy for John, so why was it so hard for me? Maybe because my feelings were real. I carefully rested my cheek on top of John’s head and went back to reading the dossier.

I must have fallen asleep at some point, because the next thing I knew, someone was nudging me awake.

“We’re here,” John said in my ear. “Let’s go.”

Newquay was just starting to get dark, and the ocean wind was strong. John and I managed to get a taxi, and the whole way I wondered if he’d noticed that I had fallen asleep on him. We arrived at the hotel and checked in without any trouble. The hotel receptionist didn’t even blink as she checked our ID’s.

“Are you serious?” John said, laughing and handing me our room card.

“221,” I said.

“It’s our address number,” John laughed again.

We got to the suite and just before I opened the door I realized that there would be only one bed. Of course there would be. We were supposedly on a couples retreat. 

John didn’t even blink at the arrangements, although I frowned as I put down my luggage. It was a king sized bed, so there was plenty of room. However, just the implications had my heart beating double time.

What to do?

A) Share the bed with John!  
B) Offer to sleep on the floor  
C) Stay awake all night thinking about the case  
D) Ask John what to do about the sleeping arrangements

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw, I don't currently have any social media connected to my fanfiction writing since I deleted my Tumblr about a year ago. What social media does everyone here have and what kind of account would you recommend I get? I have other personal accounts, but no fanfiction or fanart account, so I'd like everyone's advice. Thanks!


	4. John Decides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John decides the sleeping arrangements

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Sorry about the late update, but I'm moving home again. I also got a Twitter account (@TeaTestosterone) if you want to follow me there. If you follow me, I follow back. Just a quick question. Does anyone want me to update faster (like every 3-4 days) because the chapters are so short? Or is a week a good amount of time for deciding the next move? You can answer in the comments or chat with me on Twitter. Also! What hashtags do we use on Twitter??? Thanks everyone!

I stared at the bed and I looked over at John. To my consternation, the man was putting away his coat in the closet without even a look at the sleeping arrangements. I waited impatiently for him to notice, but he went about his evening as if he hadn’t even noticed.

“John,” I finally said, trying not to let the annoyance enter my voice. “What are we going to do about the bed?”

“What about the bed?” John asked, blinking at me innocently.

And the thing was, he wasn’t even pretending to be unfazed. He just plain and simple didn’t care about the sleeping arrangements at all. He’d noticed there was only one bed and skipped over the awkwardness altogether while I was still stuck in limbo.

“There’s only one,” I said slowly.

John looked over as if noticing for the very first time.

“Oh, does that bother you?” John asked in surprise. “I can sleep on the floor if you–”

“No, that’s fine,” I said a little too quickly for my comfort. “I was just worried that you would care.”

John simply shrugged. “I’ve slept in far worse places with far worse people.”

That didn’t exactly make me feel better, but I got ready for bed and climbed in first, edging as far away from John as possible.

“What are you doing?” John asked with a laugh. “Don’t worry, I don’t bite. You’ll fall out of bed that way.”

Very slowly, I shuffled closer to the centre as John climbed in as well and snuggled down.

“Nice room, this,” he said conversationally. “Night, Sherlock.”

“Night,” I responded automatically. 

John seemed to fall asleep almost straight away, his soft snores filling the room. But I couldn’t seem to get there, chasing dreams and foggy inspiration well unto midnight. It was so strange sharing a bed with John. He was so far away from me, but also so close. If I shifted just a little I’d be able to feel the heat radiating off him in the night. It too me a long while to fall asleep. 

But eventually, I drifted off into troublesome dreams.

A) Sherlock wakes up John with nightmares  
B) John wakes up first in the morning  
C) Sherlock wakes up first in the morning  
D) They both wake up at the same time


	5. Sherlock has nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has a nightmare. John is John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry for the long long wait. I hope this update is worth it. I've been having a stressful time lately, but hopefully I can start updating regularly again. Once again, if you feel like following me on Twitter, I'm @TeaTestosterone

A) Sherlock wakes up John with nightmares

I must have only slept an hour or two, because I woke at 2 am frozen in fear.

Most people must think that I’m a cold person, a person who doesn’t feel emotions. And I cultivate that idea within people because while I do feel, I actually hate feelings. I have an aversion to feeling every single thing that happens. I don’t like talking about it and I find it excruciating to have any conversation at all that’s related to feelings. I never want people to know that I feel, and feel deeply. It hurts too much.

Somehow, John always knew that I have feelings. At first, it pained me awfully that he knew. It’s been so long, however, that it doesn’t bother me as much anymore, and is more comforting.

Anyway, the point is, that oftentimes various trauma in my life leads to feelings that are quite unwelcome, which I suppress as best I can. Unfortunately, when you suppress feelings, they often emerge elsewhere in inconvenient ways.

Mine emerge in dreams.

Today, I was dreaming about being tortured. I never did get the therapy usually required after undergoing such events. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want some stranger prying into the vulnerability found underneath the armour I wear constantly.

I was back in that disgusting basement, chained and in pain. I had done my best to block the pain out at the time, but it hadn’t worked. If I had wholly retreated to my mind palace, maybe I could have ridden it out. But I hadn’t, because it’s impossible to make deductions when shut up in your mind. I would never have figured out how to make the man leave the room in order to be rescued had I simply shut myself up. So I felt the pain, every second of it.

My back burned, and although I hadn’t made a sound in reality, in my dream I screamed.

I was still feeling trapped and terrified when I woke up suddenly.

The room spun into focus, and the glare of the clock on the nightstand bore right into my eyes. It was okay, I was okay, I was safe.

It took much too long to realize that there were warm arms wrapped tightly around me, and a soft voice was saying in my ear, “You’re okay, Sherlock. You’re okay; I’m here for you.”

John was holding me in his arms and saying soothing things in a gentle voice. 

At first, I froze, terrified once again that he would see through my facade and realize how truly vulnerable I was. But then I remembered: John already knew. It was okay.

“Shhh,” John whispered in my ear. “Just relax. You’ll be fine.”

I didn’t say anything, but I did relax back into his embrace. This was fine. He was my safety net. He knew almost everything about me. The only thing he didn’t know was that I loved him. There was no danger here in him discovering that. It was simply his doctorly response to my nightmares.

“There’s a lad,” he said. “No need to be scared. I’m here.”

I fought down a blush at his words. He was just being a caregiver again, no need to get worked up.

“Sherlock, are you okay?” he asked then.

A) Be honest  
B) Lie  
C) Try to avoid answering  
D) Say nothing


	6. John is stubborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John refuses to give up without an answer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Sorry this has taken so long to update. I've been preparing for my PhD and now am in the middle of completing courses for the program. Yay!
> 
> Anyway, the race was close between A) and C), but C) prevailed. On with the story!
> 
> PS - I'm on Twitter, come see me! @TeaTestosterone

C) Try to avoid answering

“It’s just a dream, why shouldn’t I be okay?” I answered, trying to avoid answering.

“You were whimpering in your sleep,” John said matter-of-factly.

“What about you?” I asked, still redirecting. “You’re not usually okay with being this close to a man.”

It was a bit of a low blow, I admit, but he was getting too close to the truth of the matter, and he didn’t need to know about the torture. Of all people, he shouldn’t know. Just like I’d hidden the reason behind my disappearance, never told him why I’d left, never told him of what I’d endured on his behalf. If he knew that it hadn’t been just a grand adventure abroad, what I’d done for him... he’d know. He may be a little dense when it comes to this matter, but even he could figure it out from there.

John must never know.

“Sherlock,” John said, with some exasperation. “This is not about me. It’s about you.”

Damn him for being so persistant.

“It is about me,” I said instead. “I don’t want to cause you any discomfort. Especially as you do go on about not being gay.”

“I’m not gay...” he said.

I rolled my eyes. “There you go again. See?”

But even as I said it, I felt him tighten his arms around me and I stopped. What was he doing? I blinked in surprise – John usually didn’t get this close to me, especially not on purpose.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Are you going to tell me about your nightmare?” he asked.

“What, are you not going to let me go until I tell you?” I asked sarcastically.

“No,” John said stubbornly.

“John, you’ll have to let me go eventually,” I reasoned. “I’m not telling you about my silly dream. There’s no point.”

“I guess we’re just going to stay like this then,” John said.

I could feel his heartbeat against my back. It was nice, and I tried to decide what my best course of action was to this situation. John was being stubborn, and clearly wasn’t going to give in without a fight.

What to do?

A) Wait John out   
B) Lie about what the dream was about  
C) Tell the truth about the dream  
D) Make an excuse (I need the loo, John)


	7. Sherlock Capitulates (A little)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John won't budge, so Sherlock tells the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> C won out this time! And now we're finally getting into the actual case. I hope everyone's ready to help Sherlock and John solve a murder!

John wasn’t budging, and it was so absurd that I couldn’t help but want to laugh. Or cry. 

“It’s nothing,” I protested one last time.

“Don’t lie to me, Sherlock,” John said firmly. 

And after all this time keeping it a secret, never telling anyone about the trauma I’d undergone, I finally capitulated.

“Torture,” I said. “I was dreaming of being tortured.”

John wasn’t exactly moving, but I could feel him still against me in shock.

“Not exactly pretty, is it?” I said. “The truth.”

“Do you often dream of it?” asked John, softly.

He moved very slightly, rubbing his thumb over the back of my hand. 

“I know it’s not pretty, Sherlock,” said John in my ear. “Remember that I’ve been in some less than pretty places in my life.”

Afghanistan. I knew he also had nightmares about his time spent there. No doubt he’d been wrist-deep in more people’s insides than he could count. Maybe he’d even seen cases of torture before.

“I dream of it all the time,” I said eventually. John still stroked the back of my hand, and I took a deep breath.

“I dream that I wasn’t able to escape,” I said. “That I have no way out, that I’m trapped.”

“Wasn’t... able,” John said.

“Yes,” I said.

“You’re dreaming of something that happened to you in real life,” said John.

“John, I...” I said, trying to think of something to say. Uselessly.

“You never got counselling for it, did you,” John said with a sigh. I didn’t answer.

John didn’t say anything either, for a long time.

“Sleep,” he said, after a while. “I’ll be here to guard your dreams.”

“I...” I tried to protest.

“Sshh,” John said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

John tightened his arms around me. I didn’t know what to do. It was such a surreal situation to be in, John with his arms wrapped around me, snuggled against my back. 

“Sleep,” he instructed again, firmly.

I wasn’t going to, but I found myself drifting into sleep.

I woke up alone. John was already in the shower, leaving me to struggle out of bed and search for life-sustaining coffee. I couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed that John hadn’t stayed in bed with me until I woke up.

Snap out of it, I told myself sternly.

While John showered, I broke out the file and flipped through the pages.

There was the news anchor to track down, his husband, and the daughter of the government official. Or, I could start easy and talk to one of the hotel workers. They overheard everything.

John came out of the bathroom, hair still damp. My heart did something odd in my chest and I grimaced at the sharpness of its bite. John came up beside me, and he smelled of damp skin and soap. 

“What’s the plan?” he asked, leaning over my shoulder.

He was really close to me, and it made my brain fog up a little, making the decision difficult.

Who to talk to first?

A) the news anchor (suspected murderer)  
B) the news anchor’s husband (status unknown)  
C) government official's daughter (how is she even involved)  
D) a hotel worker (good source of information)


	8. Let the Game Begin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is going to ask the hotel workers some questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being patient everyone! I have been doing lots of work over the semester and am writing an 18 page paper for my PhD courses. So I hope you enjoy the fruits of my labour!

“Ah, we should find a hotel worker to talk to first,” I finally gasped, skin tingling from our proximity. “They overhear everything in their line of work.”

“That sounds like a solid idea,” John said. “Let’s get ready then.”

Without even really thinking about it, I staggered to the bathroom for my own shower. Why was John so... John. I tried to clear my head while I washed my hair. It was a good idea to question the hotel workers first, but I couldn’t think clearly enough to be certain I wouldn’t do something ridiculous.

Shower finished, I came to the realization that all my clothes were in the main room. Damn. I wrapped a towel around my waist and as nonchalantly as possible, entered the main room. John glanced up, and then did a double take at my undressed state. I felt myself flush, and quickly found my clothes. John, seeming to realize he was staring, looked down again. I could breathe again.

“Let’s go,” I said once I was dressed, sliding on my coat.

We made our way down to the hotel lobby. The gay couples retreat apparently happened here every year, and our news anchor friend Malcolm Alexander attended with his husband Xavier regularly. He’d only missed the retreat once, when he’d been in hospital with a gall bladder infection.

Now, the government official's daughter, Alice Vernier was supposed to be here with her girlfriend Dana, but she and Dana had broken up just before the retreat. Alice was attending alone.

The murders had not happened at the retreat, but over the course of years at various places in London. There had been nothing solid to connect the cases yet. All the victims had been men, but the age range was broad. Nothing connected them through jobs, hobbies, or any other event. The only reason that Malcolm was suspect was because he’d been in the same hotel as one of the murdered men, and had met him in the hotel bar. He’d had an alibi, but upon being pressed, the alibi had fallen through. Malcolm didn’t know that.

Now, Alice wasn’t supposed to even be a suspect, but she’d been in contact with Malcolm a few days before the murder. And she’d been in contact with him before every murder that had happened. Malcolm, too, upon investigation, had been in the area of several of the murders, but there hadn’t been many witnesses.

Knowing this, I needed to first establish some things about the case. For that, I needed the hotel worker’s information.

John and I entered the hotel lobby, and there was one person at the front desk. I had a few questions, but I had to decide where to start.

What questions to ask first?

a) Ask after Malcolm Alexander  
b) Ask after Alice Vernier  
c) Ask some more general questions first   
d) Comment on the weather


	9. White Moves First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John ask some general questions of the hotel worker, slowly working up to their main objective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! So sorry I haven't updated in ages. I just have been so busy with PhD courses and everything. I hope you enjoy the next small chapter and that it moves the story in the right direction!

I decided that I should ask a few general questions first to try and put the hotel employee at ease.

“Hello,” I said, putting on my most charming smile. “We’re here for the couples retreat this weekend and wanted to know if there were any events in town.”

“Oh, of course!” the woman answered immediately. “Here, there’s some brochures on the summer beach festival on Friday.”

We chatted back and forth about the beach festival for a while, John holding most of the conversation, as was his general practice. Finally, I made the first foray.

“I just hope the weather holds,” I said. “It’s been nice weather so far this week. Shame if it were to rain on Friday.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that!” the woman at the desk said. “I’ve seen the news for the weekend, and it seems like it will hold.”

“Which station are you looking at?” John asked casually. “I like Channel 5, you know, the one with that Alexander fellow.”

“Oh, Malcolm Alexander,” she said. She looked around, before leaning in. “Just between you and me, he’s actually here this weekend!”

I lowered my voice. “Really? You must get all kinds of celebrities here over the years.”

“It’s true, but Malcolm’s husband Xavier is a local lad. You know, I see him in town quite often. More often than I thought I’d see someone who generally lives in London.”

“Oh?” John said. “I wonder why that is.”

“I guess he misses his home,” said the woman. “I always see him walking along the cliffs overlooking the sea. He likes to go on long day hikes.”

“But his husband isn’t usually with him?” I asked. “How strange.”

“Yes, I’ve never seen Malcolm here except the one time a year for the retreat,” she said, smiling.

“Well, thank you for this,” John said, waving the brochure at her. “Do you mind if we ask more questions sometime later?”

“No, of course not,” she said. “It’s my job.”

Gossiping about minor celebrities didn’t seem like it should be part of her job, but since it was helping with the case, Sherlock wasn’t complaining.

Once away from the front desk, I started talking to John in a low voice. “I didn’t think that Xavier was involved, but I might have been wrong on that front.”

“We need to talk to Xavier,” John said. “Maybe we could accidentally bump into him on one of his walks?”

“Don’t forget the retreat, John,” I said. “We have to actually pretend to attend it as well.”

What to do?

a) Go walk around the cliffs  
b) Walk around the town of Newquay  
c) Stay at the retreat and hope to run into someone there  
d) Investigate the rooms

**Author's Note:**

> This choice will be up for a week and then I will choose a route to take and write more. This will continue throughout the summer and update every week. Just some fun for surviving the pandemic.


End file.
